


what you know

by ellisaco



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Greg makes soup, M/M, Sleepy Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 12:06:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellisaco/pseuds/ellisaco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ooh, look at you, you fit perfectly in my lap." Greg coos, overly cutesy. "I bet I could just fold you up and put you right in my pocket."</p><p>Louis tips his head back and narrows his eyes to inform Greg that he's not amused without expending unnecessary energy on anything like talking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what you know

**Author's Note:**

> This honestly has no real point, I just wanted to write Greg and Louis being cute and bantering a bit (read: a lot), and I wanted to distract myself from the last, stubborn 3k of a 25k+ Harry/Louis that I'm working on.

Greg is awoken by soft lips and soft boy and the minty taste of toothpaste in his mouth. He blinks his eyes open in time to see Louis' nose scrunching up as he pulls away. Greg makes a weak noise of protest, still mostly asleep—if he's to be woken up before his alarm, he expects kisses. And lots of them.   
  
"Morning breath," Louis says when Greg tries to draw him back in with a hand on the nape of his neck.   
  
"Hmph," Greg grumbles, flopping back against his pillow, listless. "I've just woken up, haven't I. We can't all roll out of bed camera ready."  
  
Louis preens and fluffs his hair, which looks artfully disheveled whereas Greg's probably resembles a rat's nest. Maybe one day when Greg isn't admiring how pretty Louis is, he'll find time to be annoyed by how effortless it is for him. Probably not, though.   
  
"Don't know what your awful breath has to do with a camera, but thanks, love." He leans down to kiss Greg's cheek, pointedly steering clear of his mouth. "Well, as some of as actually have work at a normal hour, I have to be off."  
  
Greg grabs the extra pillow from beside him and rears back to throw it at Louis' retreating figure, but he gets distracted by the sight of Louis' arse in his tight jeans, and suddenly retribution for the slight to his career doesn't feel so important.   
  
"Your arse looks dreadful in those trousers," Greg says, just because he _has_ to say something. As comebacks go, it's not one of his finest, as it's a blatant lie and only serves to inform Louis that Greg had been _looking_ at his arse in those trousers.   
  
Louis swings his hips a bit more than is necessary as he steps out of Greg's room, and Greg is, not for the first time, grateful for his work schedule, as it will allow plenty of time for a bit more of lie in and a good wank in the shower to thoughts of Louis' arse. Greg considers texting Louis informing him of this, can imagine the way his eyes would roll but fondly as he texted back _wow, a proper romantic you are, gregory_. But his phone is rather far away on the nightstand, so he just rolls over onto the pillow that smells pleasantly of Louis' aftershave and promptly falls back asleep.   
  
  
He wakes up again at half ten and rolls out of bed to put a kettle on. He texts Louis while he's waiting for it to boil; asks him what he's up to for lunch, figures it will be closer to that time when Louis gets a chance to answer.   
  
He finishes his tea and heads to the shower, and it's not until he's toweling off his hair that his phone vibrates.   
  
 _don't know, Paul'll probably pick up mcdonalds or summat._  
  
And something about that just doesn't sit right with Greg. Something about the near twelve hour long, day to day rehearsals coupled with only shit fast food to sustain the boys' energy feels a bit cruel. So Greg texts back asking Louis when his lunch break is and if it's alright if he comes round for a bit, and then sets to making soup for six.   
  
Greg hums as the soup boils, pours it into two large thermoses, and puts them both and some bowls and cutlery into a paper bag. He sets off for the arena where One Direction is holding their rehearsals, stopping at the grocery shop to buy a baguette.   
  
Security lets him through after a few suspicious glances at both their list and Greg's driver's license. As he's walking to the green room, Greg spots Paul directing some sort of shenanigans with equipment back stage. Greg gives him a jaunty wave and Paul grunts a bit in response.  
  
"Always a pleasure, Paul. Always a pleasure." Greg says, mostly to himself, as Paul is no longer paying him any attention.  
  
Greg clears the next level of security, right in front of the green room door, and he has to shake off the uneasy feeling that the reminder that they actually _need_ such extensive security always brings. _Just Paul being overprotective_ , Louis will say whenever Greg mentions it, as if he hasn't heard the stories about some of their more mental fans.   
  
When Greg walks into the room, he is utterly unsurprised to find Louis and his band mates all crowded onto one of the many couches and seats in the huge green room. Louis untangles himself from Harry's long legs, toppling Harry right off the couch in the process, and comes over to greet Greg. Harry makes an appalled noise from the floor that Louis completely ignores in favour of kissing Greg hello.   
  
"I brought you some lunch," says Greg, lifting the bag.   
  
Louis raises his eyebrows. "Really? That's so sweet of you, Gregory." he teases, pinching Greg's cheek.   
  
Greg nods seriously. "It's one of my many amazing qualities, right at the top of my CV."  
  
He sets the bag on the bar and addresses all five of them, "Thought you lads could do with some real food." He takes the thermoses and the bowls out of the bag, then the bread. "And maybe some carbs."  
  
Niall and Harry immediately queue up in front of the bar, pushing at each other and jockeying for position. Liam smiles at Greg and thanks him earnestly.   
  
"You brought lunch for all five of us," Zayn states, sounding grateful if not a bit shocked.   
  
Greg just shrugs and uncaps a thermos. Maybe it is a bit weird, but he was going to bring some for Louis, regardless. It seems like it would have been rude to leave the other boys out, and he does genuinely like all of Louis' band mates, so. Plus, it's not as if his schedule is exactly jam packed between the hours of nine and two.   
  
"Sure. Why not."   
  
There's a joke to be made here about Greg being a good little housewife, but Greg knows Harry well enough to know that he's very serious about not conforming or contributing to gender stereotypes and would most likely frown in Greg's general direction for a moment or two if he said anything of the sort. And Harry is a lad, so Greg bites his tongue.   
  
He turns to Louis, who is smiling contemplatively, his head titled to the side, like he's not quite sure Greg is real. Greg grins at him, maybe basks a bit in the glow of his affection, because Louis has this way of making you feel like you're the only person in the world when he decides to focus all of his attention on you.   
  
They all sit in front of the bar, and Louis pulls his chair as close to Greg's as it will go, pressing the sides of their legs together.   
  
"You didn't have to do this, you know." he says, nudging Greg's shoulder with his own and smiling—dare he say?—shyly.   
  
"No," says Greg, "but I wanted to."  
  
Not ten minutes later, Louis is making gestures as if to wrap things up. "Alright, alright, hurry up, boys." he chides. "Lots of work to be done, yet. World tour to prepare for and all that."  
  
The other four eye Louis suspiciously, like he's the last person to ever suggest that they don't stretch a break as far as it will go; which Greg figures is probably spot on. They do start eating a little quicker, however, and Greg suspects what he's seeing is some interesting band dynamics at play.   
  
"Right," Louis says the second everyone is done eating, "Greg and I are going to start snogging in exactly ten seconds whether you lads are still here or not."   
  
Greg, actually, didn't agree to that. While he's certainly not shy when it comes to public displays of affection, he for one did not sign up for this band's _complete lack of boundaries_.  
  
"Ten, nine, eight..."  
  
Surprisingly, they do go—albeit slowly and grumbling the whole way—thanking Greg again for the lunch as they close the door behind them.    
  
True to his word, Louis' lips are on his as soon as his count reaches zero, twisting in his seat and throwing his leg over Greg's. It's a bit uncomfortable, as the bar stools are not exactly built for two, and Greg pulls back to suggest they move proceedings over to the sofa. Louis sits astride Greg's lap on the couch, where they kiss and work hands under shirts until Louis gets summoned back to work by a heavy knock on the door and gruff voice calling his name.   
  
Louis looks a bit dazed when his lips disconnect from Greg's, like he's not quite sure what work he's meant to be getting back to, and Greg can't (doesn't try to) hide the smug edge to his smile. He pulls at the hem of Louis' shirt, straightening it, and runs a hand across the front under the weak pretense of smoothing out the wrinkles that are now creasing the grey fabric.   
  
"I should be off to work as well. Scott's probably wondering why I haven't been in to disrupt his show yet."   
  
"Yeah," Louis says after a moment. "Yeah."  
  
He pushes himself off Greg's lap and stretches out his kinked muscles, twisting his torso from side to side. It's all kinds of distracting, and it's Louis' turn to smirk as he snaps his fingers in front of Greg's face. He leans down to kiss Greg one more time for good measure and then flits off back to the glamorous life of a popstar. 

  
*  
  
Greg queues up One Direction's latest single as Rita Ora fades out.   
  
"That was Rita Ora with Hot Right Now. Oh, this next one is a _tune_ , a tuuuune. Here's One Direction's new record for Comic Relief, this is One Way or Another."  
  
Greg's phone buzzes with a text from Louis as the opening verse of One Way or Another plays. 

 _thanks babe xx_  
  
Louis thanks him, as if Greg is doing _him_ a favour by playing the number one record in the country on his show. A fond smile plays across Greg's lips as he thumbs out a reply, asking Louis how rehearsals are going.   
  
 _long :( I'll be expecting cuddles when u get home gregory!!_  
  
Greg can't say he's at all averse to that idea. He stares at the time on his phone, willing it to go faster. Greg loves his job, he really does, but he and Louis have both been quite busy lately, and Louis is going on tour soon ( _too soon, too soon_ ), and when they're not together it just feels like what little time they have is slipping like sand through their fingertips.   
  
  
Greg calls Louis on his way out of the studio, and Louis is just finishing up as well. He sounds exhausted, too tired to even pretend that he's not, and Greg immediately offers to come pick him up.   
  
Louis chuckles, amused. "That's alright; Miss Daisy's got her own car these days."  
  
Greg huffs and tries not to drop his mobile as he unlocks his car.   
  
"Louis, seriously, you sound like you're about to drop off at any moment; I don't particularly want that theory tested while you're behind the wheel. Just—maybe let someone help you out for once?" he suggests gently.   
  
"Well, alright," Louis relents, "if it'll make you feel better."  
  
And Greg is fine with Louis making it out like he's humouring him, understands that's how Louis needs it to be if he's admitting that there's something he may not be able to do, something he thinks he's not handling as well as he should.   
  
When Greg pulls up to the arena, Louis looks dead on his feet, considerably less perky than when he'd woken Greg up hours earlier. He smiles at Greg as he slides into the passenger seat, but it's noticeably subdued. This is the part where Greg would normally say _I told you so_ , but Louis just looks so small as he curls his legs up underneath himself and closes his eyes blearily for a long moment.   
  
Greg reaches a hand over to rest on Louis' thigh, and the corners of Louis' mouth turn up.   
  
"Alright?" Greg asks.   
  
"Mm," Louis murmurs after a moment, opening his eyes and turning his head to look at Greg from beneath his lashes.   
  
"Let's go home." says Greg, only noticing his slip up once the words are already out. But Louis just hums in agreement, like Greg's flat really is home, and that's. That's something.   
  
Louis is a bit more alert as they head up to Greg's flat, eyes sharp and focused on his surroundings, like a rogue fangirl might suddenly appear out of the ceiling of the lift at any moment. Greg might laugh if that weren't so frighteningly close to reality.   
  
Greg unlocks the door to his flat and Louis walks in behind him, heading straight for the couch without any preamble, always so comfortable in Greg's space. And Greg has to pause for a moment to gather himself, lest he do something rash like ask Louis to move in with him. He tucks that thought away for another day.   
  
Greg shrugs off his jacket and pushes at Louis' shoulder where's he's already spread across the length of the couch, telling him to budge up. Louis moves slowly, grumbling like Greg has inconvenienced him greatly. But he curls into Greg's lap as soon as Greg sits down, arms looping around his neck and kind of undermining his own complaints.   
  
"Ooh, look at you, you fit perfectly in my lap." Greg coos, overly cutesy. "I bet I could just fold you up and put you right in my pocket."  
  
Louis tips his head back and narrows his eyes to inform Greg that he's not amused without expending unnecessary energy on anything like talking. Quickly, before Greg can even think to defend himself, Louis reaches up and twists his nipple.   
  
Greg squawks and flinches away instinctively.   
  
"Geez! Wow, alright, I surrender." He raises his hands to further illustrate his good intentions. His lips then curl into a smirk as he says, "You can perch on my shoulder instead."  
  
Louis leans in to bite at Greg's neck. "Sorry that we can't all be blessed with your freakish height, Yao Ming."  
  
"Did you know I was the best point guard in the city when I was a strapping young lad like yourself?"  
  
Louis draws back to study Greg's face. "No you weren't. Were you?"  
  
"No. I'm dreadful at basketball. I've no idea what a point guard even does."   
  
Louis grins knowingly. "I'd pay good money to see you trying to coordinate those gangly limbs during any type of sporting event."  
  
"Oi!" says Greg, greatly offended. He pokes Louis' stomach for emphasis. "I dabbled in football back in the day, I'll have you know."  
  
" _Oh_ , you've _dabbled_!? Well, why didn't you say so?"   
  
"I think I liked you better when you were sleepy and quiet." Greg grouses. He pats Louis on the head as if to urge him back into that state. His fingers curl into Louis' hair, scratching lightly at the scalp, and Louis immediately goes pliant and boneless in Greg's arms, like a puppet with its strings cut.   
  
 _Oh_.   
  
That's interesting.   
  
Greg makes as if to withdraw his hand—just to see—and Louis makes a disapproving noise in the back of his throat until Greg resumes his massaging. Louis pushes up into his hand, and Greg wants to make a needy kitten joke, but he's a bit floored by Louis' reaction to such a simple action and has temporarily lost his words.   
  
Greg talks low into Louis' ear, nonsensical encouragements to just _relax_. (And when exactly did he become someone who murmurs sweet nothings unironically?)   
  
Louis' breathing starts to even out and Greg turns the ManU game on, switching the volume to mute, settling in, content. His phone vibrates, loud in the otherwise silent room. Louis startles, eyes blinking open to look up at Greg questioningly.   
  
"It's just Jack; sorry, I thought I'd put it on silent."  
  
"You should go." Louis mumbles, halfway to unconsciousness. "Out, friends. 'S a Friday night."  
  
"Nah," Greg says, pushing Louis' head gently back to his shoulder, "I'm good right here."


End file.
